


Funny how when you're dead, people start listening

by XCuteAsHale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Grief, Implied Past Verbal Abuse, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XCuteAsHale/pseuds/XCuteAsHale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Stiles is bleeding out in an alley he calls Derek to tell the wolf about the abuse his ex put him through, as well as to make sure that the other man knows exactly how much he loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny how when you're dead, people start listening

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Person B knowing they're undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they're bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.
> 
> A huuuge thanks to my dear [Dena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste), who helped me with spelling and has been working as my sounding board, I love you dear <3
> 
> A birthday gift to my amazingly fantastic wife, Ine, who's birthday I managed to forget. Seriously, who does that?? Anyway, she wanted Sterek angst, a happy ending and just a dash of total destruction including an abusive ex for Stiles. And because I love her so much I said "SCREW THE HAPPY ENDING" and wrote this! Honey, just remember that I love you. And that it's illegal to commit murder in Norway, and prison don't have fanfiction, netflix or chocolate.

“Hello?”

 

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice was tight, a slight wheezing to his breath.

 

“Stiles, what’s up?”

 

Derek sounded so happy, so at ease with the fact that Stiles was the one calling, that Stiles couldn’t bring himself to tell him. He couldn’t bring himself to explain how Marcus hadn’t taken Stiles’ visit as good as he had imagined, that it had ended with Stiles now lying in the alley behind Marcus’ apartment building, a pool of blood surrounding him, staining his already red hoodie. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling his blood slip through the fingers of his left hand. He couldn’t tell Derek about Marcus’ gun, about the two holes in Stiles’ abdomen, about running for his life once more. Except this time he knew he wouldn’t get through it alive. No, Derek sounded too happy. Stiles couldn’t do that to him.

 

“I just wanted to talk to you, sourwolf. Is that a crime now?” Stiles snarked, knowing how his voice shook, praying that the wolf didn’t notice anything wrong.

 

Derek laughed and Stiles found himself amazed once more of how beautiful the older man’s laugh was.

 

“I guess not. Are we still on for tonight? I know you don’t want to do anything fancy so I figured we could go grab some curly fries?” Derek asked.

 

Oh god, their date. Stiles had forgotten all about it, forgotten the reason he went to Marcus in the first place; forgotten how he wanted his previous abuser to know that Stiles _had_ done better than him. That Stiles would be happy. Marcus hadn’t taken the news well, and even though Stiles knew the other man would be mad, he never imagined this – he never considered that he would pull out a gun and shoot him.

 

“Of course we are! But I wanted to tell you something first, okay? And please don’t be mad?” Stiles didn’t know how he would do it, but he knew that Derek deserved to know about Marcus, about the past that Stiles had hidden from every one of his friends.

 

He wasn’t sure of how he had managed to hide the bruises from his father, or the smell of pain from the wolves, or even Lydia. He didn’t know, and didn’t want to know, how none of them had noticed that he had stopped eating or how he flinched every time someone came too close. He had kept a notebook though, filled with descriptions of how Marcus had abused him, how he had beaten Stiles unconscious, and how he had forced himself onto, into, Stiles over and over again. How he always complained that Stiles was eating too much, because who wanted to be with a fat bitch anyway? And Stiles had allowed it all, despite the fact that his father was the sheriff and had given Stiles the talk about how to care for your partner, and how to expect to be treated in return. Because Stiles had been in love, Marcus had accepted him when he felt like everyone else was just simply putting up with him. And when he finally realised that he could do better, that he deserved better, it had been too late.

 

“Stiles, are you still there?” Derek sounded concerned now, a slight tinge to his tone that otherwise wasn’t there.

 

It pulled Stiles from his thoughts, and he coughed wetly before he answered.

 

“Yea, sourpuss. I’m here, sorry. I just.. Promise me that you won’t be mad, okay?”

 

“Stiles, what’s going on?”

 

“Just promise me, Derek!” Stiles half shouted with frustrated tears building in his eyes.

 

“Okay, okay, I promise. Now will you tell me what’s going on?” Derek sounded like he didn’t know whether to be mad or concerned, and Stiles could picture the frown on his face clear as day.

 

Oh, sourwolf.

 

“Okay… You know that last year I started seeing someone, right? And that it didn’t end well?”

 

“Stiles, is this your way of telling me that you’re getting back together with your ex _the day we’re supposed to go on our first real date?_ ”

 

“No! No, God, no! This is my way of telling you that my ex was an abusive asshole who beat me, raped me, and broke me. And I don’t know if that’s something you’re willing to get involved with. And it’s not fair for me to string you along without giving you all the information, okay?” Stiles shouted now, pain forgotten with the adrenaline spike anger gave him.

 

The other end of the line was quiet, but Stiles couldn’t stop the words that were flowing out of him. It felt like a floodgate had been pushed open, and suddenly all the hurt and the pain needed to be said, needed to be spoken out loud, because if it didn’t then it might not have happened. Then the truth might die along with Stiles, the notebook forgotten and hidden in the preserve.

 

“I know I’m broken six ways from Sunday, and I know I’m a screwed up mess who can’t keep his mouth shut or even sit still for five minutes, I know that, okay? But then you came along and suddenly it felt like maybe, just maybe, I didn’t deserve all that bullshit after all, that maybe even a klutz like me could find someone who would care about them and actually want them! I have crushed on you since the day in the preserve where you threw Scott’s inhaler at him and I tried to make it go away, because damn it, I never imagined that you would even consider me for an easy fuck, let alone a relationship! But you did. And I finally got a chance to date you, and I don’t want that chance to be broken by some stupid, stupid mistake where I don’t tell you the truth!”

 

Stiles was panting by the end of his rant, a chill creeping through his bones, tears feeling frozen as they ran their course down his cheeks.

 

“Stiles…” Derek’s voice sounded wet, like maybe Stiles wasn’t the only one crying, and by God that hurt more than the wounds themselves.

 

“Just.. I wanted you to know, okay? And there’s a notebook in the preserve, in the clearing we found when we went after the wendigo. It’s inside the hollow tree next to the big rocks.”

 

“Stiles, why didn’t you tell us? We would have helped you!” Derek sounded so lost, like he wanted to change the past, future and present.

 

“I couldn’t okay, but I’m not telling you this because I wanted to hurt you. Derek, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with your patented frown and your weirdly expressive eyebrows and your bunny teeth and the way you lose those expressive eyebrows and half your ability to communicate with the world when you shift. I’m in love with the way you cry when watching extreme makeover-home edition but try to hide it. I’m fucking in love with you. I just want to know if you think there’s a possibility that you could be in love with me too?” Stiles knew he was losing soon, he knew that with the amount of blood loss he had suffered there was no going back, no time. And yet the only thing he wanted was to hear Derek’s voice.

 

He never thought that he would die alone, and after sitting next to his mother when she died, he never wanted it either. He had always wanted to die next to someone he loved, without them dying hopefully, he wanted to die knowing that someone out there would notice. Because that was the thing about humanity, they all wanted to know that they had mattered, that they had made a difference. His hands were shaking with such force that he had to struggle to keep the phone to his ear, black dots dancing in his vision. And he was so cold, God what wouldn’t he give for some sort of warmth?

 

“Stiles, You’re not broken! You’re a spaz and you don’t have a brain-to-mouth filter even to save your life, but you’re such an amazing person. I love you, okay? I’ve never felt such joy as I did when you agreed to go on a date with me!” Derek sounded rushed now, like he couldn’t stop moving.

 

Stiles smiled as he closed his eyes, Derek’s voice in his ears as he continued.

 

“I know we’re not always good at saying it, but Stiles, you’re the one who always have our back. You’re the one who always finds the answers whenever a new threat comes to town, and even though you’re human, you throw yourself into danger’s path with every breath you take. You are loyal to a fault, and mercy should be granted the ones who hurt those you love. I love the way you always have these random thoughts, things that no one actually pays attention to, and you’re never afraid to voice them. And I’m so sorry that we didn’t notice. That I didn’t notice. I swear if I could take it back I would, I would take your place if that was what it took!”

 

“Stiles, are you there?”

 

“Answer me, please, Stiles, I’m so sorry!”

 

“STILES!”

 

______

 

A young couple stumbling through the alley found Stiles, only discovered by the way Derek was screaming his name through the phone. The sheriff didn’t say what condition he was found in, only that it seemed like he was hiding from someone, and that the entire force was looking for Stiles’ ex. And all the wolves had felt it, they had all felt the way the pack bond binding Stiles to them had snapped, how it felt like a limb was ripped from their bodies.

 

The funeral home had arranged for the pack to join the sheriff in seeing Stiles before the funeral. Derek hadn’t been able to enter the room, his wolf not understanding how Stiles was on the other side of the room, but his smell was missing. Peter had stayed with him, a hand clasped firmly around the back of his neck, and the touch was a testament to how Stiles’ death had affected both men. The sheriff hadn’t been able to focus on anything after that day, his gaze unfocused and his normally soothing smell spiked with depression and anxiety. Lydia overtook the responsibility of planning the funeral, Peter handing her the credit card that would lead to the Hale fortune.

 

The funeral was a calm affair, and some people might even have called it beautiful, but Derek couldn’t get past the fact that this meant that Stiles wouldn’t come back. He couldn’t push out the sound of everyone crying, couldn’t push out the smell of sadness, grief, salty tears and obnoxious flowers. Derek figured that Peter probably had made a small note to Lydia about which flowers would help conceal the smell of death.

 

It ended as suddenly as it started, Derek wasn’t able to focus on anything because Stiles was _gone_. And there was so many questions left behind. The main one was _why?_

 

…

 

Derek stared at his hands clasped in front of him. The entire pack was at the Stilinski residence, all dressed in black, coming from Stiles’ funeral the notebook Stiles had hidden sitting open in Lydia’s lap. God, Stiles’ _funeral_. It didn’t seem real, it felt like they were all just waiting for Stiles to come through the door rambling about a new subject or maybe a fact that he discovered in the bestiary, or maybe moaning about how he was starving and they should order a pizza. He should be there because without him it felt too quiet, too still, too wrong.

 

“Why didn’t we see it?” Lydia asked, her normally fierce personality now muted, silent tears dripping down her cheek, beautiful as ever.

 

“Because he didn’t want us to see it.” Peter answered.

 

Peter’s answer earned him a glare from almost everyone in the group, but surprisingly none of the adults seemed to take his answer the wrong way.

 

“Maybe he was scared? Mayb-” Scott tried to give a better answer but was soon cut of by the sheriff.

 

“Peter’s right. Stiles would have wanted to protect us, either from the truth, or because _this complete and utter asshole threatened him_.” The sheriff looked like he had aged decades in only two weeks. He was holding tightly onto Mrs.McCall’s hand, clutching it like a lifeline, and Derek could feel the anger and grief rolling from him like waves.

 

The pack continued talking about how they should have seen the signs, about how they should have noticed, that they should have done something. They talked about how of course they had noticed that Stiles wasn’t eating as much anymore, but they had all thought it was related to the stress of their finals hanging over his head, none of them considering that Stiles was only out smarted by Lydia and should be grazing through his finals without problems. The sheriff talked about how he should have been home more, how he shouldn’t have left Stiles alone so much, that maybe if he just gave his son more time he would have come forward and just told him. Maybe he could have saved him.

 

Derek didn’t say a word, and it didn’t seem like anyone was expecting him to. They all knew about the phone call, they all knew that Stiles had prioritised calling Derek instead of calling for help, or even calling his dad. And Derek couldn’t get past that. He couldn’t figure it out. _Why_? Why didn’t Stiles tell anyone? Why didn’t he call for help? Why didn’t he ask Derek to help him? Why did it have to be Stiles?

 

…

 

It had been six months since Stiles’ death. Six whole months where Derek had woken up every day thinking that it had all been a nightmare. Six months where he hadn’t opened his mouth to a living soul. Six months since the quiet invaded his life and never left. Six whole months.

 

He was standing in front of Stiles’ grave, a beautiful marble stone in soft blacks, greys and whites. It wasn’t the first time he had been here, usually he came once a month, sometimes even more often, either to inform Stiles on all the stupid things that the pack had gone through since the last month, sometimes to assure him that he looked after the sheriff’s diet and cholesterol, or sometimes just so sit there silently. The description on the stone was simple and beautiful, and Derek always found himself tracing it with his fingers whenever he visited.

 

PRZEMYSLAW (STILES) STILINSKI

APRIL 8TH 1995 - AUGUST 7TH 2012

ABIIT NEMINE SALUTO

 

As Derek traced the words he felt his heart glitch once more. The pain renewed. He blinked away the tears and placed the single forget-me-not flower that he had brought. As he closed his eyes the only thought that was in his mind was; _Why?_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Abiit nemine saluto - He went away without bidding anyone farewell.
> 
> Come say Hi at [my tumblr!](http://www.cute-as-hale.tumblr.com)


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